My true feelings about a country come out after I get the flag. It tells me a lot about what I need to know about interacting with the local women, and unless I see hope of something a little meaningful, unique, or special, I back down. That’s what happened after getting my Swedish flag. I didn’t care for prowling through the mall or going back to the club Sticky Fingers. I just wanted to spend my days at the coffee shop.
The one I started going to had a blonde girl with curly hair. She was not the most beautiful girl who worked there but I was drawn to her warm personality in a country where people were restrained from showing emotion or excitement. One day I pointed to a pastry and said, “Where I’m from we don’t have that.” She asked where I was from and I wanted to explore things further but there was a line behind me.
After three or four days of ordering from her without really getting anywhere, I came on a Saturday afternoon when she wasn’t there. You know how you can tell when someone is looking at you from the corner of your eye? Well, as I was reading my book, I felt it. The second I looked up I saw her walking by. She slowed down her gait a bit so we could exchange hellos.
I waited a while to see if she would come back around but she didn’t. I began packing my things to leave. At that moment she came to bus the tables next to me.
“The sun is finally out today,” I said.
“Yes, summer wants to arrive.”
“I’m a little surprised by the cold weather. People told me that if I wanted to come to Sweden then I should do it during summer, but it’s the middle of June and it doesn’t feel like summer.”
She put the tub down on the table. “July and August has good weather here. By next month it should be fine.”
“I don’t think I will be here next month,” I said.
“How long are you staying?”
“About two more weeks. Oh, I actually wanted to ask you something.”
“Do you recommend any touristy things to do? Honestly I haven’t done much but come to this coffee shop.”
“I can think of some things. Are you here in the city alone?”
“Yes, I’m alone. What’s your name?”
“Jenny. And yours?”
“Burt. I know you work a lot, but if you get free for an hour we can take a walk. Maybe you can show me around.”
“Do you work tomorrow?” The coffee shop was getting busy and I knew she couldn’t keep chatting.
“Yes I’m here until closing.”
“Okay well you think of some places and we’ll talk tomorrow.”
It was a risky move to not go for the number right then, but I knew Sunday would be quiet and I could get it on stronger footing. I also planned on showing up late so that she would (hopefully) wonder if I was coming or not. When I meet a girl at a bar I go full-court press and aim for a nonstop chat of a couple hours to get her in bed the same night, but in a situation where you see someone regularly, a dance has to be played. Attention must be regulated.
That night I went early to the club Excet at 10:30 to avoid lines and a cover charge, but was hit with a $20 fee nonetheless. I was the fourth or fifth person there and settled onto the ground floor where the DJ played a lot of Drake and Kanye West. The music was quiet enough that I could pick the brain of the young bartender for nightlife tips. He was a big fan of America, like most Swedes, and asked me a lot of questions about which city he could go to for both work and play (I told him New York).
The crowd turned suddenly. One minute it was quiet and the next I felt like it was packed with drunk people. Behind me was a group of eight guys, all plastered, with one in a wheelchair. I had never seen a drunk guy in a wheelchair before that wasn’t a homeless man. He began raging, throwing cups at his friends in response to them dumping a beer in his lap. I was hit twice and told one of his friends to tell him to take it easy. He said, “You should tell him!” That was a neat trick, I thought, letting the cripple get away with anything because everyone would feel too guilty to tell him stop misbehaving. I moved away from them and watched the cripple terrorize the crowd with impunity.
My first approach of the night told me how things would go. I talked to a cute girl who was interested that I was American, but her friend wouldn’t stop pawing at her. The conversation lasted five minutes. My second approach was on a girl who actually wanted to live in Washington DC and was excited I was from there. It doesn’t get more money than that, but a few minutes later her friend physically got in between us. It was the night of cockblock. Every single approach would end a couple minutes in. I looked around to the other foreign guys and they were getting with 4′s and 5′s and 6′s. I refused to go below a 7.
By 3am, with two hours left to closing, I was exhausted. I had gotten absolutely nowhere. I wasn’t even getting close. It became hard to do an approach after this time because groups merged and the male to female ratio was four to one. I badly wanted to go home but I felt that since I had stayed out this late, I might as well go all the way. I maintained sobriety by following a one-drink-per-hour rule. I made it until 4:45 just as the club was emptying.
As an afterthought, I remembered how this hour would be prime game time in Iceland, that all I would have to do was walk around for a bit and approach singles. Would it work in Sweden? Only one way to find out.
CONCLUDED: PART 2Tweet Follow @rooshv
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Your ability to keep approaching against bad odds and failure is always inspiring.
Nice post RooshV, keepin up the suspense.
On a different note, I have read BANG and DAY BANG, where you clearly spell out that if a woman in a bar/nightclub asks for what work I do,she must be tackled out. I have been doing that and it feels great. But what should I do if a girl asks the same question during the day, say if I am a thoracic surgeon, or a commercial airline pilot, or an astrophysicist? In this day scenario she is biting small, with only marginal personal interest. Please help.
“I had never seen a drunk guy in a wheelchair before that wasn’t a homeless man.”
Was this in Stockholm? When I was in stockholm I bore witness to a complete party animal with long black metalhead style hair raging his ass off. I have a very amusing video my friend took of myself and a girl dancing around him in a circle while the guy does a little arm dance.
[Roosh: This was in Gothenburg.]
I think I found the perfect song to describe an Alpha male: the theme song from the James Bond movie Thunderball:
He always runs while others walk.
He acts while other men just talk.
He looks at this world, and wants it all,
So he strikes, like Thunderball.
He knows the meaning of success.
His needs are more, so he gives less.
They call him the winner who takes all.
And he strikes, like Thunderball.
Any woman he wants, he’ll get.
He will break any heart without regret.
His days of asking are all gone.
His fight goes on and on and on.
But he thinks that the fight is worth it all.
So he strikes like Thunderball.
Nice. He’s setup up two plot lines, the blonde girl at the cafe plus the impending outcome of his night game.
I am new here, can someone tell me how Roosh is making his living? Does he work or just picks up girls and writes this blog?
I am 33 now and I had sex with about 80 girls in my life, not counting prostitutes (had hundreds of them) and I came to the conclusion that picking girls is fun, but its not a good carma, because you brake hearts and make some of them suffer. It also can’t be your life meaning, may be a hobbie.
Now I dont have sex with most of the girls I go out with, only with the ones that are either really special or really sluty. With most of the girls I pick up I just have a date or two, but if there is no chemestry I let them go.
nice cayenne, can you elaborate on the karmic effects? I’m interested in learning what you mean by that….
I mean that its difficult to bang girls for fun and to stay a decent person. You become more selfish, more cynical. It becomes almost impossible for you to fall in love. You even cant appreciate the moments you spend with your current girl because you keep scanning around for better ones.
Sex with different women is addictive, its like cigarretes, when you smoke a lot you dont enjoy every cigarette, you just have an urge to smoke.
Also when you become a sex addict its almost impossible to go back to monogamy, so when you decide to marrie and have kids you will keep cheating on your wife, eventually your marrige will fall apart. Thats from me personal experience
I love Swedish girls. They’re generally bigger boned people. And the fat ones… They carry their thickness with a certain grace. Nothing gives me a boner like a white, mammoth-assed blondie chicken head. Their pussy juice is always thick like Lingonberry jam.
Swedish bitches are like pieces of Ikea furniture. They are easy to figure out. They simple, just screw in.
“walk in her shoes” parade in toronto
[...] huge outdoor terrace. It was a bit intimidating to conquer solo and even after several hours I had nothing to show for my efforts. Your best bet here is to go for the foreign girls in pairs since they were the most receptive. The [...]
i am in a wheelchair too and i like to go in clubs and bars to meet girls. you should do some tips for people who use a wheelchair so they learn to pick up girls like other guys.
btw don’t use the word cripple it’s better to say disabled :)